Afraid of the Dark
by Angel's Nocturne
Summary: For YGO Fanfiction Contest Season 2 Bronzeshipping The past is behind him. He's his own person now, devoid of darkness and the monster he created. Sometimes, however, you don't have to see or believe in something in order for it to be real. MxYM


Disclaimer: (insert something humorous about not owning YGO)

Author's Note: Hello all! You have currently stumbled upon this little fic of mine. Feel special. I do (because I actually managed to post THIS).

This is for the YGO Fanfiction Contest Season 2, hosted by Computerfreak101. This is the third round, the pairing is **Bronzeshipping**, or **Yami no Marik x Malik Ishtar**.

Ooh… FUN.

Actually this pairing didn't do so bad. I managed to discover a living plot bunny for it, so that's enough (hopefully you'll think I did good too… hopefully). It's a little more on the psychological stuff, not my usual style, but I still believe I did a pretty good job.

Enjoy, my lovies!

**Afraid of the Dark**

Malik hated the darkness.

He was trapped in it, for years beneath the surface of the world. Where others walked beneath the clear blue sky and were warmed by the light of Ra, above his head lay miles of sand and stone, his only comfort the dim radiance of the torchlight. He didn't hear the songs of birds or feel the hot breeze of the desert upon his skin—his world was within the gloomy, endless tunnels beneath that, where the only melody was his own breathing, and the damp, chilled air that hovered in the passageways was stagnant. It was a different place—a world within the world, and when one treads below the surface like he did, one was always surrounded by darkness….

He was afraid of that darkness.

He could remember as a child, getting lost within the catacombs that made up the maze of his existence. He knew them like the back of his hand, but there was always that one day, that one time he wasn't paying attention… that one time when the torchlight would go out, and he would be all alone.

Then, it didn't matter how much he knew his home, how long he had lived there, or how much he knew the cool rough walls that enclosed him. At that moment, standing perfectly still in the shadows, he was no longer in a room, no longer within a passage he passed through so many times before. The boundaries of reality were as invisible as the floor was—now, there were no walls, no ceiling, no end. He was trapped in an endless abyss of shadows, engulfed in them, swallowed by them as if he were nothing more than a grain of sand in the sea that was the desert. He was all alone… except for the chilling presence that followed the coming of the darkness—

Malik shivered, attempting not to recall old memories. It had been a long time since he was that child, and it had been not as long ago but a long enough time ago that he shed the bindings of that darkness. He no longer wandered the chasms that were the Tombkeeper's home. For that matter, he wasn't even a part of the tombkeeper clan, for they were now non-existent; their purpose completed, their souls were now free to do as they pleased, and normal life was finally an optional destiny.

Lying atop his bed, Malik stared up at the ceiling of his bedroom, his violet eyes tracing some of the cracks he could see in the paint job. His corn-silk blonde hair splayed out around his head like a halo, its perfection mauled only by his arm crossed above his head. His other hand lay upon his stomach, his purple top ruffled a bit, displaying the tan skin of his abdomen. His expression was blank, his mind wandering aimlessly with thoughts. There wasn't much to think about at the moment.

There also wasn't much to _do_ at the moment either—it was early evening, but it seemed much later due to the thunderstorm raging outside. Rain battered against Malik's bedroom window, streaking down in a steady flow that was only visible when lightening crackled across the stormy sky (which was often). It was followed by the roar of the thunder, its raging growl rumbling distantly in Malik's ears. It nearly drowned out the cheerful sounds from the television, which still blabbered on though it had been forgotten a while ago by its viewer.

Malik's fingers interlaced with his hair, twirling about some of the stiff locks. Why was he thinking about home again? Such thoughts were hardly on his mind anymore, even less so since he moved with his sister and Rashid to Japan for their new life. He was now accustomed to what others would refer to as "normal" life, though he could never get enough of the rising and falling of Ra each and every day. How everyone on the surface took it for granted! Malik couldn't fathom their disinterest, their "it's just the sun, who cares?" attitude. After so long in darkness Malik would never waste a precious moment of the never-ending light. He rose with the sun in the morning just to watch it rise some days.

Somewhere outside a streak of light illuminated the blackened sky, its presence echoed by a thunderous snarl.

Sure, he had seen the sun and light when he left his home to achieve his "goals", but that had not been the same. Then, it didn't matter how much he was surrounded by light, or how warm the sun made him feel on the outside. Inside, he was still within the tombkeeper clan's tunneled home, still in the darkness that clung to each rock and person that existed within its depths.

He couldn't have let it go even if he tried. No… not when _he_ had still existed.

Malik shivered. _Why am I thinking about that…? _Again, in the distance, a peal of thunder crackled over the city, catching Malik's attention.

_Maybe the storm's making me think about it_, the Egyptian mused, rubbing his eye absently with his free hand. _About home and about… him_. His gaze shifted back over to the television, his interest still lacking but hoping there might be something on to amuse him. He sighed—the sudden onset of the storm seemed to put a damper on the previously cheery day, and on Malik's mood. It would have been sunset right around now, but it already felt as if night had befallen him. It also set a somber mood about the house; he knew Isis and Rashid had gone somewhere, maybe the supermarket, but he couldn't recall if they had returned or not. And though he was almost sure of it, Malik didn't feel like making an effort to call Ryou or Bakura to find out if they were home; normally when he was _this_ bored he would have jumped at the chance to join them in whatever they were doing but, today, he just couldn't muster the enthusiasm.

Maybe the storm was to blame for that too. The weather seemed to have power over many, many things.

_BOOM! _This time the thunder was so loud it actually shook the house, causing the lamp on Malik's nightstand to wobble uneasily before steadying again. Malik's lilac eyes flickered over to it, but saw that it was no longer shaking, and returned his attention to the TV.

_The lightening must have been very close that time. _Malik strained his ears, listening to the pounding of the rain on the house. Reaching for the remote, he started flipping channels, his motion nearly robotic as he watched commercial after commercial pass by his eyes. _Heh. With our luck, one of the power lines'll get hit and we'll have a—_

Suddenly, the light on the nightstand that had been wobbling moments before began to flicker. The television's clarity fuzzed in and out, and within seconds both devices gave a resounding hum before fizzing out altogether. Malik blinked, the sudden onset of blindness causing the breath he had been taking to hitch in his throat.

…_blackout_.

Malik never realized how much noise all the electronics in his room had once made—in their absence, the silence was near deafening, cut only by the sharp inhales and exhales that were his own. Now the only sound that reigned supreme was that of the rain, like a fleet of crazed drummer boys pounding on their instruments defiantly. Malik's ears hummed with the racket, and instantly he felt annoyance, but not at the rain itself.

"Damnit," he hissed, sitting up on his bed. Why did he have to curse himself? Didn't he ever pay attention to those movies where the person says "Well, it can't get any worse" and it _does_? Shaking his head, he blinked a few more times, trying desperately to get his eyes used to the darkness. It was to no avail—for now, he was completely blind, and for that matter, very much helpless.

Or just bored. Now he really had _nothing_ to do.

He pretended he wasn't afraid. He pretended he didn't feel the shivers run up his spine as he realized how dark it was, or the quickening of his inhales and exhales as his eyes tried to convert to nocturnal sight. His pretending, however, could only do so much, and the edginess that fluttered in his stomach like huge butterflies now threatened to make its presence known.

_If I remember correctly_, he thought, trying to navigate his way around his bed to find the edge, _Isis gave me a flashlight and I put it in a drawer… now, if I can only remember __**where**__—_

Lightening flashed outside, encompassing Malik's window and his room with instant visibility. It was just as blinding as the absolute darkness—surprised by the sudden light he covered his eyes with his hand. As lightening goes, it was gone the second it appeared, leaving only a searing burn in Malik's vision. Colors danced across his eyes that he could not blink away; for a moment he sat still, a bit dazed….

Until a dark chuckle echoed through his room.

Malik's head whipped around, but the sound was gone the moment he tried to find it. Not that looking could do much good, considering he couldn't see anything even if it _was_ there….

If anything _was_ there… the words hung loosely in Malik's thoughts, refusing to fade. He shivered needlessly, finding himself suddenly wary.

_Get a hold of yourself_, he scolded. _It's only a blackout. You're in your room. No one's in here with you_.

Despite his attempts at rational thinking, the underlining feeling lingered under his skin like an itch that wouldn't disappear. The chuckle had sounded so familiar… it almost sounded like—

_No. _Malik thought firmly. _No, he's gone. He's gone, forever, he doesn't exist anymore_. _You're only thinking that because you were just thinking about him. That's __**all**__…._

Malik's eyes swept over the vast expanse of darkness that was his room… _was_ his room. Now it was as if he were in the tombs again, down that hallway with the torchlight gone out. The walls were gone, the ceiling gone: all that existed was darkness, an endless abyss of shadows, engulfing him, swallowing him… and the chilling presence, standing there, watching him squirm and laughing at it with so much delight—

"_I'm so flattered you remember me_…."

Malik bit back a scream, jumping at the sound. His body now rigid, his eyes swerving this way and that, trying to see who was there… _what_ was there. It was useless, he was blind—darkness was all he could see, and all that was in it was hidden from him.

He felt sure he wasn't hidden from _its_ sight though.

Chuckling, just like from before, bounced off the invisible walls and around the Egyptian. It grew louder and stronger in resonance, as Malik's pupils dilated with realization. His stomach rose into his throat, as if he would choke on it, as the sound of the laughter washed over him in its familiarity.

Just like the darkness, surrounding, engulfing. Just like the darkness, for it _was_ the darkness—a part of it, just as _he_ was a part of it too…

"_As well as a part of you, my little hikari_."

This time Malik did gasp—suddenly leaping to his feet, he stood in the center of his room, the dark laughter still swirling around him in a sweeping haze.

Just like in the tunnels, when he was a child… just like in the dark, when he was all alone….

"But… But this can't be…!" Malik took a step back, towards his bed, but now found himself stranded in the darkness. The endless obscurity where nothing existed… he couldn't find the bed. He couldn't find the walls… everything was gone. "No, no… this isn't, y-you aren't—"

"_Real_?" the familiar voice said, so deep like the abyss, but now sounding so tangible, so close. Malik's heart beat pounded in his temples, his breathing jagged and fast. "_Alive? What 'defines' being real, Malik? Do you have to 'see' me to 'believe' in me again?"_

"N-No… y-you're dead…!" Malik hissed, but the fear in his voice was evident as he took another shaky step back, still trying to find something—a wall, the door, _anything_. Anything to prove the darkness wasn't endless.

"_Darkness is always endless, Malik. Never-ending, just like me_—"

"N-No!" Malik shouted, realizing the voice had heard his thoughts.

Just as it always had.

His eyes darted everywhere, trying to see, trying to find reality again. "N-No! You died, I _saw_ you die…!" he protested, more to himself.

The voice made a noise akin to a snicker. "_Ah, there we go again, with the 'seeing' thing. Why is it, hikari, that you only believe what your eyes tell you? Did you ever once think that your ears could tell you just as much…?"_

Malik's throat tightened, his panic rising as he realized he could barely breathe. _I have to be dreaming_, Malik thought quickly, his mind running a mile a minute, trying to compensate everything at once. He reached out blindly, feeling for something corporeal. _I have to be. That's the only way— _

"_You're dreaming are you? Just like all those many dreams before… and have you been listening to those dreams, Malik?_" The voice purred sultrily. Malik felt his head spin, the room was spinning beneath his feet… _"Have you been paying attention to those dreams, where you wake up in a cold sweat, much like you're in now? Do you make sure you recall those dreams, where they're so much like this is now: you and I, the endless darkness, like an echo of the days of long before? Or do you forget them, Malik, do you forget them in hopes that if you don't remember, they won't ever come back?"_ Again, the seductive chuckle rang out through Malik's ears, filling his senses with feelings he couldn't quite define. "_Just like how your room sits around you in the shadows, just because something is no longer seen, does not mean it isn't there._"

"I… I won't listen to you." Malik finally stopped his shaking, regaining slight composure as he listened to the voice speak. He clenched his hands into tight fists, reversing his feelings from fear to anger in hopes it will give him strength… or maybe give the illusion of it, enough for him to overcome this nightmare. "I won't listen to you, not like before."

The chuckling merely deepened. "_So you won't listen to yourself? I __**am**__ you, little Malik. I'm the flip side of the coin, the side that you don't see. The side that you don't want to see!"_

"The side I still can't see, and will _never_ see," Malik said affirmatively. In response the voice only seemed to get louder now… louder, or closer, as if now he were standing right behind him….

"_You don't believe what you can't see, neh?" _The voice asked, amused. "_And you won't believe what you hear, even if it's as clear as day…?"_ Though he was blind, Malik could almost sense the demonic smirk that would spread across the darkly-tan face…. "_Then, there __**are**__ other ways to make you believe again…."_

That was when he felt it… _remembered _it.

The hands.

Hands, so solid and so real, coming out of the shadows from behind and holding him so gently. Malik gasped—the skin was so cold, so icy and inhuman, as the arms wrapped themselves around, the hands now wandering over the Egyptian's body. One slipped under his shirt, causing Malik to stifle a hiss as the icy flesh met his warm skin. The other traced up, feeling his jaw line, before running its fingers through his hair. The frozen touch did not warm with time, only getting colder as Malik felt his own body temperature sink with it.

He struggled to get out of the grasp that held him, but found his body motionless. He attempted to whip his head around and see what he knew he didn't want to see, but all he saw was darkness. He couldn't see himself, much less the hands that caressed him vigorously. Still, he knew these hands, which made the moment all the more frightening…

"_Scared yet, little Malik?" _the voice said, as if feeling his fear. A cool breath tickled his ear, making him shiver. "_Do you see now, that it is truly I who torment you, and not a figment of your imagination?"_

"You… you were always a figment of my imagination…," Malik hissed, feigning bravery but knowing full well that the one who stood behind him could see straight through the walls he put up. "I created you, w-when I was scared, and in that same way I **killed** you. In the Battle City finals you died, and you… you have been nothing ever since."

"_Or so you would __**like**__ to believe…," _the voice whispered into his ear huskily. "_I am made from darkness, Malik… __**your darkness**__. Every fear you had, every time you felt angry… I __**thrived**__ upon it. My whole being is darkness; I grow and live in darkness… I am the darkness, Malik, and no matter what delusions the Pharaoh and his friends have given you…," _a cold and wet tongue, like a snake's, slithered out along Malik's earlobe, _"you cannot kill darkness."_

The hands continued to wander, sliding ruthlessly up and down Malik's form in a rhythm that left Malik abruptly dizzy. The tongue was replaced by lips, cold and chapped, brushing against his ear before nipping it with sharp, animal-like teeth. Malik would have cried out had he not been busy fighting a moan from the erotic dance the hands were involved in. He felt something warm flow from his ear, and the cold tongue again, lapping at it. Was it blood, _his_ blood that the tongue tasted? The voice made an "mmm" sound as it did so, seeming to enjoy the coppery tang.

He hated this. Malik felt his heart, beating so rapidly it might simply burst from his chest. His mind felt foggy, his head heavy, his senses overwhelmed with both innate feelings of fear and the strange waves of unwanted desire. He couldn't help it—he hated the voice, surrounded by darkness and cold, but the hands, and those lips….

The voice chuckled in amusement, reading Malik's thoughts as easily as an open book. "_Enjoying this? Do you still enjoy it as much as you used to, Malik?"_

His mouth wanted to word "no" but his body nearly screamed an incoherent yes, to the Egyptian's fright.

"I—I h-hate you…," Malik breathed between clenched teeth. "T-this is _rape_…."

Again, the despicable laugh. "_Tsk tsk. It's not rape if you __**like**__ it."_ The cold lips from before pressed on, tracing his neck and a long tongue, longer than any normal human's could be, slithered out to taste around his collarbone.

"S-stop…," Malik protested weakly.

"… _why?"_

Malik grunted, the hands making a sharp dive down. "Leave me alone… you're not real…."

"_Silly little hikari, why should I leave this perfect body of yours alone? It is mine too, you know… we both own it, whether you think so or not. And I believe it's time I have some fun with it again…."_

Malik's thoughts came and went, receding and flowing like the tide with the fluent motion of the hands and the quick jabs of the teeth. The mouth moved down—now the teeth were running across the skin on his neck, tracing along it like a sharp blade. His memories… his memories came back with this, memories he had chosen to forget so long, long ago. Memories of the tunnels, of the torchlight flickering out… memories of the presence finding him, upon him, hands grabbing him and holding him, someone kissing him, biting him, all in the dark….

"_This is just like how it used to be. Don't you remember, Malik? You fed to me your pain, the suffering that your father, your life, that the Pharaoh caused you. In turn I helped you cope, when you had no one else… my presence excited you then, Malik, does it excite you now as well?"_

Malik breathed heavily, everything still empty blackness around him. He couldn't escape this, he couldn't escape the memories… the feelings that were engulfing his senses, massacring the sanity he had worked so hard to achieve.

Darkness, it was everywhere. Not just around him but inside him, like poisoned air he breathed in and allowed within his being. He fought for air but it was as if he were drowning in it… and slowly, he could feel his fear rise uncontrollably, only feeding the demon that held him fast.

"_You were so easy to manipulate in Battle City_," the voice mused, entertained. "_So much anger, so much hatred… the mere sight of the Pharaoh's vessel filled you with loathing… and what delicious loathing it was. So full of desires for bloodshed and pain… so much pain…." _Malik could hear the voice lick its lips. "_And then, in the darkness of your room, I could emerge and show you the fruits of your labor. Of your hate. And your screams, oh your screams… they only fueled me more, making me stronger._

"_Your fear for the dark amused me. Why be afraid of what gives you power? You should not bite the hand that feeds you, my light—I taught that to you the hard way, but it seems losing your body and nearly fading to nothing has not proven to teach you that lesson."_

Hands… lips… the unmerciful mixing of it all at once. Malik at once felt trapped, just as he had all those times before.

Trapped in his own darkness, trapped by the monster he had created. He was living his memories all over again, but this time, it was all too real….

"_Do you remember now, little one?" _the dark spirit breathed.

Sweat dripping, his skin cold and wet with it….

"_Do you think me real now?"_

Hands… torturous hands… Malik's mind shouted in terror as his body felt the need to yield as it had once done so willingly before….

"_I am always a part of you, even if you deny me. I will always be here, in the darkness, and even when you cannot see me, you will feel me, hear me, and submit to the one thing you cannot escape… yourself—"_

Outside, lightening flashed, illuminating the entire room. Malik nearly fell over—he could see again, and arms no longer encircled him. In the sky a series of lightening strikes danced through the clouds, keeping the room a lit and Malik's eyes seeing. He wheeled around—there was no one there, no one in the room except for him… panting hard, Malik realized what was going on.

"He only appears in the dark…," Malik whispered absently. As it hit him more and more, his voice grew in strength and resolve. "Only in the dark. Only in the—" Malik stopped, recalling the flashlight that he supposedly had, in a drawer somewhere—

_I need… I need to find that flashlight!_

Malik bolted towards his nightstand, hands clamoring for the handle to the little drawer there. At that moment the lightening ceased, once again flooding the bedroom in absolute darkness.

Malik was blind again, but this time he knew he wasn't lost—his hands gripped the nightstand, feeling over it desperately as if to loose touch with it meant sure doom. His body was exhausted, his mind a jumbled mess of sick feelings and unwanted desires. Yami no Marik had almost claimed him, so close… if he gave him the chance Malik knew he would not be able toe escape again.

His hands, shaking, scrambled about for the handle. Somehow it had disappeared with the woodwork of the nightstand, into the shadows….

_Come on, COME ON! _he hissed._ Where is that knob…!_

"_Searching for something, Malik?"_

The voice was echoing in his head, but Malik ignored it, continuing to fumble with the drawer. Finally his hands gripped something familiar, and he pulled on it, bringing the drawer forward.

_Have to find it, have to find it…_. His hands scrambled through the contents, most of them he couldn't recognize in the darkness but definitely nothing that felt like a flashlight. He felt his breathing quicken… where was it? Where had he put it?

"_There's nothing you can do to get rid of me_," Marik whispered, sounding closer. Malik stiffened, his knees nearly buckling as he stood up. "_I've always been here, and I'll always be here. Hiding, waiting until shadows consume you again, so I can come out and play…."_

Malik's lilac eyes glanced about. In the pitch black he couldn't see where his clothes dresser was. That was the only other furniture he had with drawers… the only other place the flashlight could be.

"_You've never been alone… you'll never be alone…."_

Another flash of lightening streaked through the clouds, illuminating the room once more. Again, in the light Malik saw he was still alone in his room, but Marik's cackling bounced off the walls as if he hid in shadow, any and every shadow, watching him and waiting for the cover of night again.

Malik didn't waste his opportunity—sprinting towards the dresser he pulled out the top drawer, rummaging through it just as the radiance of the lightening dissipated.

Allowing _him_ to "come out and play" all over again.

"_Malik_…." Finding nothing in the top drawer, Malik's hands traced down to find the handle for the second, and after many pained moments of groping, discovered it and threw the drawer open. "_Malik… you cannot fight me, Malik…._"

In the darkness the hands returned, but this time they held Malik's arms loosely, as if waiting to pull them back and bind them behind Malik. The Egyptian forced his attention to stay on finding the flashlight, but it was instantly broken by the feeling of claws digging into his flesh. He couldn't help it—he winced.

This only provoked the nails to dig further, causing Malik to yell. Something warm flowed down Malik's arms—blood, Malik knew—as a hiss brushed up into his ear again, as cold and chilling as before.

"_You never fought me before, Malik… I was the one who absorbed your pain, I was the one who suffered in your stead…I was the one who taught you how pain and pleasure_"—the nails fug deeper—"_can actually be one and the same."_

Malik, despite the throbbing that ran through his arms, kept feeling, kept trying to find the flashlight he knew he had somewhere in a drawer… was this not the drawer? Was this the wrong one?

Was he possibly mistaken and the flashlight wasn't even here, but somewhere else entirely? He couldn't afford that, it had to be here. It had to be here… somewhere… anywhere!

_Please, please… please Ra, be here! Let me find it!_

"_There's no point in begging Ra to help you_." Malik's hands felt the bottom of the drawer, searching, hoping…. "_It's not as if I'm going to kill you_."

Feeling in the corners… checking the back, scrambling through folded pairs of pants to no avail….

"_No, not kill. I just want to watch you __**suffer**__…." _The tongue returned with a vengeance, and it's inhuman length was proven once more as it wrapped around Malik's neck, suddenly tightening. Malik choked, but didn't stop.

All of a sudden, Malik's quivering hands come across something hard, like plastic. And cylindrical… just like a flashlight….

The voice cackled, a sound as horrifying as the booming thunder outside. "_Well, little hikari? Shall you allow the inevitable to occur or will you continue not to believe, not to see? Either way I'll still be here… either way I'll still have you."_

"I highly doubt that," Malik snapped. The flashlight in his hand, his grip tight around it, Malik confidently broke free of the claws, feeling the tongue slither around him like a collar, detaching from him slowly. He sharply wheeled around to face the presence behind him.

Everything was dark, he still saw nothing… but just faintly, like the shadow of the moon against the darkness of the night sky, he thought he saw a shadow blacker than the gloom that surrounded them standing before him. One thing he could see, though, were the eyes—sharp, menacing eyes, their deep purple hue so empty and endless that Malik could become lost within its depths.

He shook away the mesmerizing look. Bringing the flashlight up before him like a sword, he smirked at the eyes.

"This is where it ends!" Malik hissed. "You're only in mind, and I plan to keep it that way!" His fingers felt for the on switch, and pushed against it. "Get _out_ of my life!"

Malik flicked the switch on.

"… N-n… wha…?"

Everything was still darkness.

Malik flicked the switch back and forth, trying again. _Come on, come on…_

It clicked several times, but to no avail.

The batteries were dead, Malik realized in horror. The flashlight was dead.

"N-no… no…." His hands shaking Malik continued to turn the flashlight on and off, hoping, praying, that it was only a little old or something… something other than dead. "N-No… no, turn on, TURN ON…." He smacked it against his palm, shook it mercilessly… but despite all his efforts, no light could reach him.

No light could save him.

Afraid to look Malik's gaze unconsciously lifted to meet Marik's. The shadow's eyes were laughing, and the sound of it escaped through what Malik knew was a grinning mouth, assaulting his ears as the reality of it all hit him, ironically, like a lightening bolt.

"_Oh, are we experiencing some technical difficulties_?" Marik cackled, filling the room with his deep, resonating echo. Once again hands reached out to touch Malik, but now there were more than two. Three, five, ten… so many that Malik could no longer count them. They pulled on him, wandering and leaving his body feeling like jelly, in spite of the fear now growing within him. He felt the tongue slither back in position, like a wet snake gliding over his skin… he gasped, trying to move but finding himself trapped by Marik's eyes.

The eyes that were drawing in closer, the shadow that was looming over him. Malik felt the room and reality slipping away, just like his will to resist. So many hands and sensations… the cool tongue, the cold flesh, the icy breath and heated stare… Malik felt dizzy, he felt himself slowly slipping into the nothing that was the shadows….

He felt the flashlight being ripped in his hands, before the tongue receded and a cold pair of lips latched themselves to his, the tongue finding a new home in the warm cavern of his mouth.

"_You won't be needing a flashlight where we're going, little one…," _Marik said in his mind. His laughter inflamed Malik's thoughts, before his mind finally submitted and darkness was truly all he could see.

---

The storm was still raging outside as Isis Ishtar threw open the door to her home, carrying with her a bag of groceries. She trudged in, feeling her clothes stick to her uncomfortably and her hair drip more rainwater down her back.

She wished she had paid better attention to the weather report. Maybe then she wouldn't be coming home soaking wet.

Everything in the house was as she had left it a few hours ago. The first floor was quiet, meaning Malik was still probably up in his room. _I bet he hasn't left it __**once **__since I've been gone…._ Dropping off the bag on the kitchen counter, the museum curator noticed that the clock on the microwave was blinking "12:00". She took a moment to stare at it, before shrugging it off. _The power must have gone out during the storm_. Her cerulean eyes looked up to note that the kitchen and living room lights were still on. _Hmm, I guess it must have come back on as well. Thank Ra… it would be such a hassle to have to cook dinner by candlelight._

Isis started removing things from her bag, absently thinking about what _exactly_ she was going to cook that night as she put away the food she bought. It was only until she was done did she realize that the house, even if Malik _was_ upstairs, was still awfully silent. He should have heard her come in… why hadn't he come to greet her? Had he already gone to bed?

"Malik?" she called out, taking the plastic grocery bag and throwing it in the garbage. She didn't receive an answer—wrinkling her nose, she tried again. "Malik, I'm home!"

Still, nothing. The house was far too quiet, and that made Isis very nervous. Of course, she rationalized, what did she have to be worried about? He probably _was_ asleep, or he had on his earphones in with the music blaring and thus couldn't hear her. And the door was locked, so it's not as if something _bad_ had happened….

Isis found herself heading for the stairs regardless of that. For some reason, something didn't feel right… and without her Millennium Necklace, instincts were all she had to rely on.

Unfortunately those instincts were not telling her good things right now.

Isis climbed the stairs, her footfalls sounding louder than they should have. "Malik, you there?" she called again, and upon receiving no answer yet again Isis unconsciously quickened her pace.

_He better just be sleeping_, she thought. _That's all it probably is. Now I'm going to end up waking him and I'll have to hear about it for the next __**hour**__…._

She chuckled humorlessly at the thought, but that didn't slow her at all. She reached the top of the stairs, turning sharply to the right, down the hall where Malik's room was. She walked over till she was only a few feet from the doorway… and she stopped.

His door was ajar, and it was dark inside. Isis cautiously took a step forward, towards it.

_That's odd_, she mused as she continued to approach his room. _Normally Malik closes his door when he goes to bed_….

Assuming he was indeed asleep, Isis quietly walked up to peek her head inside. She didn't want to disturb him if he _was_ sleeping. Her eyes peered into the darkness, opening the door further so as to allow some light in….

The light flowed a little further inside the room, suddenly illuminating more carpet, and someone standing in the middle of the room. Isis's gaze fell on the feet as the light made them visible, and her breath caught for a moment.

"… Brother?" she asked. Opening the door fully she felt on the wall for the light switch, wondering to herself why he hadn't turned back on his light. When she found it she flipped it up, and as her eyes fell on the figure she spoke to her they widened instantly with fear. Her hand fell to her side, as her gaze found itself locked with the one pair of eyes she had hoped she would never, EVER see again in this life and the next.

"…you…!"

Yami no Marik grinned. "Hello there, _Sister_."

---

_Chains… they bound him, held him fast around the wrists and ankles. He could feel the air, cold and damp, slithering over his naked form, his skin covered in goose bumps and his body shivering uncontrollably. He felt the dry stains of tears crisp on his face, and his lips were bruised… all over his body, bruises formed in all shapes, sizes, and in some cases different colors against his sun-kissed skin. His muscles ached, his entire being tired and helpless… he no longer fought the chains, or screamed out into the never-ending darkness of his mind. His voice was too hoarse to even make a simple cry. _

_And trapped in the depths of his own mind, no one could hear him._

_No one… except for __**him**_

"_How does it feel, little Malik?" Marik's voice whispered in his ear, as cold hands returned to trace slowly up his tender, wounded form. "How does it feel to know that reality__**, your**__ reality, was not all that it seemed?" Malik tried to shrink away, but found his body no longer responding, now limp and lifeless to his touch. Eyes, big and dark with desire, stared at him with hunger laced in their gaze._

"_Well now, my poor little hikari... have you learned your lesson yet?" Rough lips brushed with his, but Malik couldn't fight them. He couldn't fight anything anymore. "It doesn't matter if you believe in me or not, see me or not… I will __**always**__ be here."_

_Just like every other time in the shadows. He was just like darkness itself, always present, always there…._

_And Malik hated the darkness…._

---

Author's Note: ….

O-kay… I will say, that THIS was THE most disturbing thing I have written on this site thus far. Definitely not something I write on a normal basis, lemme tell ya. (shrug) But heck, when ya got a plot bunny, ya got a plot bunny.

Well, I hope you liked this. I really have NO idea what to think of it. So um, give me some ideas on what I should think by reviewing me. Reviews are always treasured.

Happy, um, Earth Day everyone! (I know, it's in two days but screw it I'm SAYING IT ANYWAYS.) XD


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